


Ailurophobia

by houselesbian



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Ailurophobia, Florist AU, M/M, but he works at it, florist Galo, love in the time of phobias, punk Lio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houselesbian/pseuds/houselesbian
Summary: Lio’s favourite moment of the day was waiting for the lights to change on the corner of Azalea Parade and Central Avenue. Every morning there would be new arrangements in the windows; elaborate bouquets of white lilies and eucalyptus, explosions of multi-coloured roses or simple poseys of daisies. Those flowers were a small bright point in an otherwise humdrum day.Sometimes, if Lio was very lucky, he’d catch the florist as he laid out his displays. He was quite young to be managing a shop, with bright eyes and unmistakable energy. His smile could run a city block. Lio had run into him once at the local supermarket and had a short, funny conversation with him about pineapples.He was beautiful. Lio wanted, very badly, to talk to him. And he would have, were it not for the cat.In which Lio Fotia is a humble punk who works at JB Hifi and knows no fear (except for one).A fic produced for the Parallels zine, written based on an idea by the incomparableAddislillywoo!
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 18
Kudos: 165





	Ailurophobia

Lio’s favourite moment of the day was waiting for the lights to change on the corner of Azalea Parade and Central Avenue. If the crosswalk was green, he’d pretend to check his phone, just so he had an excuse to wait a minute longer and look at the little florist shop on the opposite corner. Every morning there would be new arrangements in the windows; elaborate bouquets of white lilies and eucalyptus, explosions of multi-coloured roses or simple poseys of daisies. Those flowers were a small bright point in an otherwise humdrum day. 

Sometimes, if Lio was very lucky, he’d catch the florist as he laid out his displays. He was quite young to be managing a shop, with bright eyes and unmistakable energy. His smile could run a city block. Lio had run into him once at the local supermarket and had a short, funny conversation with him about pineapples. 

He was beautiful. Lio wanted, very badly, to talk to him. And he would have, were it not for the cat. 

* * *

“I heard exposure therapy works good for phobias,” Meis said, as they ate their lunch in the back room of the West City JB HIFI. 

“I think you’re only supposed to do that if you have an actual therapist,” Gueira replied. 

Lio sighed into his salad. The halloumi and pumpkin were like ashes in his mouth. 

“This is Thymos Florist, right?” Meis asked. “The fancy one.”

“Yes,” Lio said. 

“I’ve been there! I know that cat you’re talking about, fluffy tabby with three legs?”

“That’s it.”

“I like that cat,” Meis said. “He’s so friendly and soft. Like a little cloud.”

“That’s my problem,” Lio replied. “Most cats are happy to ignore you. He doesn’t, he always runs over to me.”

Gueira hummed in consideration, then took a massive bite out of his sandwich. Lio tried to suppress the reflexive shiver that came whenever he thought about cats, particularly cats that were interested in his person.

“What do you think’s gonna happen?” Meis asked, thoughtfully. 

Lio shrugged. “Trip me? Run up my legs? Logically I know that neither of those are particularly scary or likely -”

“No, cats are super trippy.”

“Shut up, Meis!”

“But it’s not a rational response, I’m not sure where it comes from.”

Lio couldn’t think of any traumatic experiences that he’d had, no formative horror movies from his childhood. He wasn’t afraid of the pain of a scratch; he had a ring of piercings down his ears, one each in his lip, nose and tongue, among one or two other, more tender places. No matter how hard he thought about it, he could find no basis. He just hadn’t grown up with cats. His first and last pet had been a hermit crab that ‘went to live on a farm’ when he was seven years old. Lio’s parents were not very good, or particularly creative, liars.

“The cat thing’s never bothered you before,” Gueira said. “This seems like a lot of effort for a date.”

“What’s so good about this guy anyway?” Meis asked. 

That wasn’t so easy to explain, either. He was Lio’s type, tall and handsome, but they were in a city full of tall and handsome boys. He had a sense of humour, and a nice laugh, from the single time Lio had heard it. His career was creative, his success in a competitive field was admirable. However, he was, essentially, just a guy who had managed to pique Lio’s interest. All other things equal, Lio would have asked him out already. The only reason he hadn’t was a weird little phobia he hadn’t previously felt the need to address. 

The truth was that Lio didn’t know the answer to Meis’ question, but he was not going to back down until he found out. Lio Fotia  _ never _ backed down. 

“He’s cute,” Lio replied. 

“Whatever works for you boss,” Meis said. “We got your back.”

Gueira nodded supportively. 

“Maybe I can borrow a cat and practice,” Lio said. “An old one, perhaps.”

“Lots of old cats don’t have homes, it makes me sad,” Meis said. 

“In the meantime, I think I have an idea that might work,” Gueira added. 

* * *

“I love you!” Meis cooed. “You’re a special boy!”

The Thymos Florist cat had thrown itself into Meis’ arms and was aggressively rubbing its head into Meis’ hair. Lio felt torn between affection and horror. Meis was having the time of his life. Gueira stood beside him, because he liked to tag along on these sorts of things.

“Go to him, Lio!” Gueira said, as he pointed through the plastic fringe that protected the door to the florist.

“I will never forget this,” Lio replied, seriously. 

He walked through the heavy slats into a burst of cold air. It was as lovely as he had imagined, with a scent of greenness and a kaleidoscopic burst of flowers on every surface. Lush ferns hung from the far wall, their broad leaves full and verdant. Pots of roses and lilies skirted the edge of the floor, while more common flowers overflowed from large, white buckets. A small collection of orchids sat along a side table, next to a sweet, misplaced pot of yellow daisies. Lio felt a moment of perfect peace. 

The counter was empty, but there was a small bell and a little sign which said ‘ring me’. Lio walked over, his heart beating double time. He reached for the bell. 

A small, black cat jumped onto the counter. It blinked at him. Lio blinked back. It took a step towards him. 

Lio fled. 

* * *

“Sir, I will not give you a discount for emotional distress,” Lio said. 

Lio was short, which meant that men who were taller than him assumed he could be easily intimidated. He was not. 

“Your ad said you’d have the new Ex Machina televisions today!” the customer said, spittle flying. 

“Our shipment has been delayed until this afternoon, I apologise,” Lio replied, as he wiped a speck from his cheek. 

Thyma, Lio’s newest trainee, stood beside him, abject confusion on her face. She was two days in and was very knowledgeable about consoles, but wasn’t as strong on other electronics. Since there was a synergy between games and screens, Lio had decided to train her on tvs as well. He had neglected to warn her about how absolutely wild people could be about their televisions. 

“Well what am I going to do about that?” the man said. “I’m almost done on my lunch break!”

“We’re open until nine,” Lio replied. 

“I’ll be busy!”

“We offer delivery.”

“Oh, and how much would  _ that _ be?”

“Twenty dollars within the metropolitan area. Prices vary regionally.”

“But I don’t want to pay a fee!”

Lio sighed internally. 

“In this instance I can waive the fee,” he said. 

The man sniffed, his face turning a slightly less murderous shade of red, “and I want a discount on the television.”

“I’m afraid I cannot offer a discount on a newly released television,” Lio said. “I am able to waive the delivery fee for you, in light of the inconvenience you are experiencing.”

“I want-”

“Sir, I cannot offer you anything else.” Lio replied. “You can choose to accept it or not, but if you continue to raise your voice, I will ask you to leave.”

The man folded his arms, his biceps flexing. Lio tilted his head down, like a bull that was considering violence. They locked eyes for a long moment. The customer looked like a man who played rugby on his weekends and maybe did weights once a week. Lio had stolen his mother’s copy of  _ The Art of War _ at age five and then picked up competitive fencing as a hobby. He did not blink first. 

“I’ll take the tv, please,” the man said, mildly, his arms slowly falling to his sides.

“Thank you for your patronage,” Lio said. “Please follow my colleague to the service desk.”

The expression on Lio’s face implied that he would commit murder if given any further cause. The man followed Thyma with no further comment, but Lio watched them carefully all the way to the desk. 

“You handled that really well.”

Lio resisted a flinch and turned to find himself face to face with his florist. His long blue hair was tied up in a bun and black-rimmed glasses framed his face. He’d seemingly forgotten to take off his work uniform, so Lio could see his nametag pinned right next to the logo for his store. 

Galo. His name was Galo. 

“Thank you,” Lio said. 

“I wish I was that good with rude customers.” Galo laughed like the bells of heaven. “I just tell them to come back when they’re ready to be polite.”

Over the speakers Lio could hear the opening bars of a song that sounded suspiciously like ‘some enchanted evening’. He was going to kill Meis and Gueira. 

“If I could get away with it, I would,” Lio replied, heart pitter pattering. “I don’t think corporate would approve.”

“Benefits of being independent, I guess… I work at the florist on Central?”

“I know.” Lio smiled and nodded his head towards Galo’s apron. 

Galo’s face went a dusky pink. It was unspeakably charming. Lio wanted to die. 

“Oh, duh,” Galo said, with another celestial laugh.

“I walk past your place all the time, it’s gorgeous.”  _ As are you _ .

“Thank you!” Galo’s smile turned neon bright. “I try my best.”

A natural lull came in their conversation, the sort of point where someone might raise a hand and say ‘nice talking to you’ before they went on their way. 

“While you’re here, can I help you find anything?” Lio asked, eager for any excuse to keep talking. 

“I’m kind of being a lookie loo, I’m sorry,” Galo replied. 

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Lio tried not to swallow his own tongue. 

“I do the same when I walk past yours,” Lio said. 

Lio mentally kicked himself. 

“Oh!” Galo looked pleased. “You should come in some time.”

Lio mentally unkicked himself. 

“Next time I have occasion, I will,” Lio replied, with a smile. 

“Any day is a good day for flowers!” Galo said.

Lio laughed in reply. It was a good laugh, at the right pitch and wavelength. 

“We have cute cats too, which is another good reason to visit!”

“Definitely!” Lio lied.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Galo said. “Have a good day!”

Galo waved and walked away, out of the store and out of Lio’s wretched life. Lio watched after him. He breathed in slowly, so his heart could still. 

Meis threw himself down the aisle between games and appliances, sliding on his knees, his arms held up towards the ceiling. His eyes were clenched shut, his face twisted with passionate, unknowable emotion. 

“Across a crowded room!” Meis sang, in a surprisingly passable tenor. 

Gueira appeared from behind a vacuum. 

“And run to his side!” Gueira cried, one hand held out beseechingly. 

“And make him your own!” They sang, in harmony. 

“Or all through your life, you may dream all alone!” A sweet, clear soprano voice cut through the store. 

They all turned towards Thyma. A polite smattering of applause sounded from across all the different departments. Thyma wilted under the attention. The rude customer was still beside her, his eyes shining beneath the fluorescent lighting. 

“Wow, that was beautiful,” he said. 

“I really like musicals,” Thyma replied. 

“Thyma, you have a lovely voice, but I am still going to kill all of you,” Lio warned, already pulling his phone out to look up the number of any local therapists who specialised in phobias. 

And one other thing. 

* * *

“Give me your oldest cat, please,” Lio said. 

The girl at the desk of the PSPCA clasped her hands together and smiled. 

“Oh, bless you,” she said. “I know just who to introduce you to!”

* * *

Skipper looked like an overcooked pancake that had slipped off the plate and landed awkwardly on the floor. The cat’s body was spread out so that her tail was soaking in her water bowl and her head was propped up on a scratching post. Her tongue poked out like bad taxidermy. She looked at Lio with one dark eye and sneezed, pathetically. 

“You and I are going to get along,” Lio said.

“We’ve been trying to find her a forever home for so long,” the desk girl said. “She’s very old. A lot of pet owners aren’t comfortable with the emotional burden of adopting an animal in their twilight years.”

“Age is just a number,” Lio replied.

“She also has to take medicine for her arthritis, twice a day. It’s a little expensive,” the desk girl added, nervously.

Lio held up his credit card. 

“Would you mind getting her into the carry box for me?” he asked. 

* * *

Lio and Skipper regarded each-other warily from opposite sides of Lio’s living room. 

“So,” Lio said, “this is your new home.”

Skipper wheezed. 

“I hope you’re very comfortable here. I’ve put your bed in the corner by the heater and your restroom is in the laundry.”

Skipper ignored him. Instead, she very slowly made her way around the living room, gently sniffing whatever took her fancy, including the couch, the skirting board and the coffee table. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth like a little pink petal. She eventually made her way to the front door, passing the nice bed Lio had bought for her, so she could look at the reusable grocery bag he’d left there for his weekly shop. Skipper touched it with her paw. Seemingly satisfied, she turned in a circle and lay down on it, her paws neatly tucked under her body. 

“Alright,” Lio said. 

Skipper’s head dropped down onto the floor like a piece of toast dropped from a great height. Lio huffed out a laugh and waited for her to right herself. He’d seen movies; he knew cats didn’t sleep face down.

Skipper, however, did not sit up. Skipper did not move at all. 

“Skipper?” Lio asked. 

Skipper remained motionless.

“Hey, Skipper, are you alright?” Lio said, as he slowly began to walk towards her. 

He had planned to respect her space, as a considerate roommate should, but surely, if she were that still, that unresponsive, then it was his responsibility to check on her. Lio was no idle bystander. He walked across his area rug, past his shoe rack, each step as careful as a rock climber going up a sheer cliff. 

“If you are dead,” Lio said, very seriously, “I will never forgive myself.”

Lio dipped down to one knee and then the other. He held his hand out over her little brown body, being careful to stay away from her head. If he stayed away from her mouth, she couldn’t nip him, but he knew that Skipper barely had any teeth left to bite him with, if she even tried. She was just a cat, old and a little daffy, with sore bones. Still, Lio was afraid. 

He quickly poked a finger against Skipper’s side. She rocked a little, but he couldn’t tell if she was moving on her own or if her gravity had simply shifted her back to where she had been. She was more dense than he had expected. More real. 

“Come on,” Lio whispered, at himself. 

He screwed his courage to the sticking place and pressed his fingers gently against the fur of her throat. He felt the quiet, steady rumble of her purr against his fingers. As the pounding of his heart subsided, Lio realised he could hear her wheezing again. The relief and frustration that filled Lio’s body made him wonder if this was what parenting felt like. 

“You little bastard,” Lio whispered. 

Skipper tilted her head into Lio’s fingers, then pressed up into his hand. Heart pounding, he rubbed his thumb against her cheek. The fur behind her ears was very soft. 

* * *

“You sure you want to do this again?” Meis asked, tripedal Florist Cat cradled safely in his arms. 

“Skipper and I are getting on very well,” Lio replied. “And my therapist says my progress is excellent.”

“You’ve been to three sessions in two weeks,” Gueira muttered. 

“Yeah, and medicare only gives you ten,” Meis added. 

Lio held his hand out and gently poked Florist Cat in the belly. Florist Cat made a ‘prrt?’ sound. 

“I believe in you,” Gueira said, solemnly. 

Lio pushed through the plastic slats and into the shop, once again enveloped by the cool air and the green scent of flowers. The counter was once again unattended, save for the little black cat. It was sitting, very neatly, next to the bell. Lio walked forward. 

“Good morning,” he said, to the cat. 

The cat yawned widely, it’s pointy, white teeth fully displayed. Lio took a deep breath and braced himself. He rang the bell. He took his hand away as the cat reached out with a paw to touch the bell as well. It tapped at the top of the ringer, producing a softer sound. 

“Coming!” came a cry from the back of the shop. 

“Wish me luck?” Lio asked the cat. The cat did not respond. 

Galo appeared from the back room like Aphrodite from the ocean. In his arms was a wicker basket of tiny, squirming kittens, each crying pitifully. 

“Aw,” Lio said. They were less intimidating when they were fun size. Their honest complaints were relatable, too. Who hadn’t wanted to cry in a basket at some point?

“I know, right?” Galo said. “They’re only ten days old. I’m fostering them.”

Galo was so lovely. 

“How often do you have to feed them?” Lio asked. 

“Every three to four hours!” Galo said. “It’s so tiring.”

Lio held a finger out and pet a baby cat on the head. 

“Worth it though?” Lio said. 

Galo smiled. “Yeah, worth it though.”

Their eyes met and in the confines of his head, Lio heard the opening refrain of ‘some enchanted evening’ play again. Galo’s cheeks dimpled and he ducked his head. Lio leaned down, so his elbows were braced on the counter and he could look up at Galo through his eyelashes. 

“You know, you and I have actually spoken a couple of times,” Galo said. 

Lio willed himself not to blush. 

“Oh?” he replied. 

“Yeah, uh, once I saw you at the supermarket and we reached for the last pineapple at the same time-”

“I remember that,” Lio said, softly. 

“I said I’d rock paper scissors you for it, but you like, pushed it into my hand and said I could have it because I was cute.”

Lio wanted to scream, but chose not to. “Well, you were,” he replied. 

“It made me laugh,” Galo said, with a chuckle. 

Lio’s heart felt light. Once again, he gathered his courage and his words. 

“I might have come here with an ulterior motive,” Lio admitted. 

“Yeah?” Galo asked. 

Black cat chose that moment to walk across the counter, over Lio’s hands. Lio flinched bodily, jumping up in spite of himself, inspiring a reflexive leap from Black cat, who launched themselves off the counter and out into the back of the shop. Lio looked up, heart racing in his chest, to see Galo looking back at him wide-eyed. Galo’s surprise melted into the emotion Lio hated most in the world; sympathy. Lio clenched his jaw. 

“I’m a little nervy around cats sometimes,” Lio said, attempting not to sound defensive. 

“That’s okay,” Galo said, with painful gentleness. “Some people are.”

“I’m… trying not to be,” Lio replied. 

“Yeah,” Galo said. 

Lio wanted to throw away his pride, make his excuses and walk out the door, but Lio Fotia never backed down, did he? Learning how was a little too much to deal with in an already stressful situation. Lio slowed his breaths, just like his therapist had advised him to. He opened his mouth to speak. 

Galo cut him off. “But you came here anyway,” he said. 

“Yes,” Lio replied. 

If Galo were any kinder, Lio thought he might drop dead of mortification. 

“So, you said you had an ulterior motive?” Galo asked. 

Lio valiantly fought a blush. His breath hitched, but he breathed through it. 

“I did.”

“You got me intrigued.”

Well, he had practised this in front of the mirror. If the delivery was off, at least the content was solid. Lio tilted his chin up. 

“There’s a pizza place nearby and I need someone with pineapple experience to help me test their Hawaiian.”

Galo’s lips quirked into a pursed smile, a laugh hidden behind his teeth. Amusement was a big step up from pity.

“I do have extensive pineapple experience. Got to thank you for your help, there,” Galo said. 

Lio realised then that Galo was giving him a genuine shot. He stepped towards the counter again and didn’t bother trying to fake confidence. Instead he smiled and shrugged his shoulder. To his relief, Galo leaned in closer. 

“If you have any free time between running a successful business and saving baby animals,” Lio said, wryly.

“I’ll get a kittensitter,” Galo replied, a smile blooming on his face. 

* * *

  
  
“So, you’re nervous with cats, but you own a cat?” Galo asked.

Lio nodded, a little self-conscious. “She’s helped me a lot. I figured she could have a worse roommate.”

Galo smiled in a warm and pleased way that Lio was steadily becoming familiar with.

“You’re a cat person waiting to happen,” Galo said.

“I’m working on it,” Lio replied.

He opened the door to his flat. This was their sixth date and Lio had decided it was time to introduce Galo to the woman in his life. She was at the front door, waiting for them, seated on her favourite reusable grocery bag. Her tongue was sticking out of her mouth again. 

“This is Skipper,” Lio said. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Galo replied. 

Skipper sneezed and then her head dropped flat against the floor, as it so often did. 

“Is she okay?” Galo asked. 

“Yes,” Lio replied. “She just does that.”

Lio crouched and brushed his fingers against the fur behind her ears. Galo stooped down beside him and brushed a thumb over the top of Skipper’s head. She slowly raised her head and pressed a sandpaper-rough lick against Lio’s hand. Lio’s fingers didn’t even twitch. 

“That feels awful,” he said. 

Galo leaned to the side and knocked their shoulders together gently. 

“You’re pretty cute, you know that?” Galo said. 

“Don’t tell anybody,” Lio replied. 

Lio tilted his head towards Galo and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Galo turned to meet him. It was as easy as breathing. Before them, Skipper’s head once again fell to the floor. She began to purr beneath their hands.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Thank you for reading!](https://twitter.com/IiquidCat/status/1342802342790381570)


End file.
